


(Un)spoken

by Sequesters



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Fluff, M/M, My take on how they FINALLY talk about it, Post-Apocalypse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-05
Updated: 2019-07-05
Packaged: 2020-06-09 16:40:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,453
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19479874
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sequesters/pseuds/Sequesters
Summary: After the averted apocalypse, out from under the thumb of Heaven and Hell, Aziraphale has never felt more free. And with that newfound freedom, there's something that he wants to talk to Crowley about...





	(Un)spoken

Aziraphale took a deep breath of the London air as they strolled out of the Ritz and back to the Bentley. The smell of London was not always a pleasant one, sometimes it was absolutely _rank,_ but this day was a day that the Earth was never even meant to see, and certainly one that this particular angel and his demonic companion were not supposed to see.

To Aziraphale, it smelled of LIFE.

It reminded him that despite the best efforts of Heaven and Hell, he was still here—soaking in the moment, Crowley by his side with a cocky grin and a pair of dark sunglasses that glinted in the streetlights, taking enthusiastic pleasure in revving the Bentley before speeding off. Crowley had been right all along, they were so much better off without either of their head offices, better off being together, on their own side. Even as the Bentley hurtled through central London at unconscionable speeds, the normally anxiety-filled angel didn’t voice even one complaint. They may have been doing 90 through the small sidestreets of Soho, but the fact that Heaven and Hell didn’t know or care what either of them were up to? Aziraphale had _never_ felt more safe in his long life.

And as he finally strode up to the door of his old bookshop, seeing it miraculously unburnt and undamaged with a new lease on life, Aziraphale felt similarly reborn.

Inside, he stopped to examine the collection—old favorites that he was delighted to still have, new children’s books that he was excited to get to know, and all the other subtle changes that had come from an eleven-year-old boy’s rewrite of history.

Crowley, meanwhile, wasted no time and made a beeline for the old, overstuffed sofa in the back and sprawled out upon it, limbs akimbo, as if he were trying to be a spider rather than a snake.

“Ohhh, that’s the ticket,” Crowley sighed, leaning his head back in relaxation.

Aziraphale felt a sudden, yet very familiar, swell of love expand in his chest.

It was immediately followed by the sudden, yet very familiar, urge to clam it right back up, what if he NOTICES, what if UPSTAIRS notices, what if DOWNSTAIRS notices and hurts CROWLEY, but then he remembered—he had JUST been thinking about how neither of them gave a SHIT about either of them anymore!

So really…what was the harm, anymore, in letting that swell go unchecked?

Might as well just follow its instincts and…see what happens.

“I suppose…there’s no stopping us now, eh old boy?” Aziraphale said, almost too casually.

“From _what,_ dare I ask?” asked Crowley, not bothering to even look up at the angel as he spoke.

“Well…anything,” Aziraphale said, making his way with tentative steps toward the sofa, flicking his eyes back and forth from Crowley’s face to literally anywhere else in the shop. He was suddenly hit by _nerves,_ and _oodles_ of them, why was he so NERVOUS?

Crowley narrowed his eyes, staring at Aziraphale as if he were trying to read him, and the smallest of smiles flicked over his lips.

“Well, Aziraphale, I simply have _no_ idea what you are talking about,” Crowley said, his words betrayed by a growing smile, “Do me a favor and _please_ elaborate.”

But Aziraphale didn’t rise to the bait. He just sat down next to Crowley on the overstuffed sofa, primly sitting as straight up as he could manage, trying and failing to hide the fact that he was visibly shaking.

Crowley must have noticed, because all playfulness was wiped from his whole being as he sat up to mirror Aziraphale, body turned towards him, receptive.

“What’s wrong, Aziraphale?” he asked softly, “Talk to me.”

Aziraphale’s breath caught. Oh, that was apulse of _fondness_ that emanated from Crowley’s divine essence,be still his beating heart!

But no, he couldn’t be distracted now, he had to _do this._

“I…once told you that you go too _fast_ for me,” said Aziraphale quietly, wringing his hands in his lap, “Do you…remember that?”

“I-I do,” said Crowley, carefully, with a guarded look that said _How could I ever have forgotten?_

“Well, I’ve been… _thinking_ ,” Aziraphale said, looking back down at his lap, “Now that our respective…SIDES are no longer breathing down our necks, _I_ feel like I could finally… _catch up_ with you.”

Aziraphale chanced a glance at Crowley, who was slackjawed hanging onto Aziraphale’s every soft-spoken word. It took him a moment to realize that Aziraphale was waiting for him to speak.

“C-catch up,” Crowley swallowed, “Wha-what do you…mean by that?”

Aziraphale frowned. Was Crowley being deliberately obtuse? Why would he do that at a moment like this?

“Oh, you KNOW what I’m talking about, Crowley,” he said, a blush spreading over his face, “I KNOW you do, I can-“ he took a sharp breath in and clutched at his heart, “Ohh, it’s coming off of you in WAVES, I can-I can hardly _think-­”_

This time, Crowley refused to rise to the bait.

“What is it? What do you feel from me?” Crowley asked, leaning in even closer.

“I feel-I feel your-“ Aziraphale made a frustrated noise, “Crowley, don’t play DUMB with me! We both know what’s going on, I just don’t want it to be UNSPOKEN anymore!”

“Then ssssspeak it,” Crowley hissed, leaning in close and grabbing the lapels of Aziraphale’s coat. “Speak it into exisssstence, angel, God-Sat-EVERYONE knows I’ve waited long enough for you to get here, and I’m not going to _indulge_ you this time. _You_ make the move, or it doesssssn’t get made.”

Aziraphale held his gaze, thinking back to every intimate and important moment they had ever shared over the six thousand years they had known each other. The pattern, with few exceptions, was usually Crowley reaching out, and Aziraphale pulling away.

Or, more bluntly, pushing _him_ away.

Judging by the pain in Crowley’s eyes, he was probably thinking about all that too.

“I suppose you’re right,” he sighed. He leaned forward until their foreheads were touching, and closed his eyes.

“I’m sorry, Crowley,” he murmured.

Such a simple phrase could never make up for the six thousand years of mixed signals, but it would have to do for the moment.

Crowley loosened his grip on Aziraphale’s lapels, prompting Aziraphale to pull away and look at him once more. Crowley still had the same intense, yellow-eyed stare trained on him. A look that, if he knew Crowley(and he did), meant something along the lines of-

_Do it. I DARE you._

Aziraphale pulled back, and took a deep breath. “I love you, Crowley.”

Aziraphale felt the rolling wave of deep-seated _love love LOVE_ crash over him as Crowley smiled at him, aged like a fine wine for six thousand years.

“Oh, about damn time,” Crowley said, his grin stubbornly refusing to leave his face as he shook his head, “About _damn_ time.”

Aziraphale couldn’t help but grin back in return, awash in dizzy feelings that he didn’t even know who started. Sure, it had been sort of an open secret between them how they felt about each other, but actually saying it out _loud_ and acknowledging it to the world…it was different.

“And, in case you were wondering,” Crowley said, a casual air to his voice, “Your suspicions were correct about me. I _love_ you, angel.”

Aziraphale’s love BLOOMED in his chest at those words, and he giggled. Caught in the overwhelming back and forth of both of their exhilarated feelings, mingling and bouncing off each other, Aziraphale leaned in and pressed his forehead against Crowley’s again, playfully this time, giggling dizzily with him.

“Well, now that THAT is out of the way,” Aziraphale said, clearing his throat, “What changes?”

Crowley shook his head. “I don’t have any idea,” he laughed. “Not much, I would imagine.”

“I think there is only one thing I would like to change,” Aziraphale said, squaring himself to be brave again, “It is that…I would like to be able to _touch_ you, more often, I mean.”

Crowley held out his arms as an invitation, as if to say _Then come here, angel!_

So Aziraphale threw himself forward, hands reaching out to cradle Crowley’s jaw with the utmost tenderness before he pressed a long-awaited kiss right to Crowley’s lips.

Crowley made a noise of surprise at that.

“Sorry,” said Aziraphale, pulling back slightly in concern, “Was that a little too…human?”

“I’d say…it’s just human enough for us,” Crowley said, and kissed him back.

 _What a FINE human tradition,_ thought Aziraphale as he let six thousand years of passion sink into Crowley’s lips, _What a WONDERFUL day to be alive._

**Author's Note:**

> *Deepest of sighs* First Sportarobbie and now Ineffable Husbands, I think I have a TYPE  
> Anyway, I've not abandoned my Benedikt/LT crossover, still working on that, but I've watched Good Omens recently and have been SUCKED IN, so be prepared for some shorter Ineffable Husbands stuff to pop up here every now and then.
> 
> Thanks for reading!!


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